


A Study in Sapphire and Snow

by shadow_in_the_shade



Series: Colors of Asgard [3]
Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Magic, Making Up, Porn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-09
Updated: 2014-06-14
Packaged: 2018-01-11 18:42:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1176556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadow_in_the_shade/pseuds/shadow_in_the_shade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Third Part in the "Colours of Asgard" series. Thor and Loki fight, make up, do the thing. Snow falls.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**1.**

**Thor**

"Loki!"

I should have known it was useless, but I called you wearily to come back as you ran off regardless. You always had to do this at a certain point in all of our arguments, so that, angry with you as I was, I ended up having to comfort you and be the one to seek reconciliation. I dropped heavily into the window seat in exasperation, turning with a sigh to watch you storm across the courtyard, your face scrunched up and defiant, holding yourself tense and close against the sheeting snow. I determined not to follow, not to give in this time, as I always eventually did.

I groaned heavily, getting up and hurling myself out of the door to go after you.

You did not stop in your angry tearing through the city until you reached the edge of Idun's Orchard. Here there was a small but beautiful courtyard, wherein grew a single stray apple tree, right in the centre. It was an old tree, the twisted roots rising high above the cracked cobblestones and forming a tiny fantastical labyrinth of seats, pathways and curling corridors of wood. It had been a favourite haunt of both of ours when we were very small and we had lost many happy hours playing amongst these slithering roots and spreading branches.

Though there was snow throughout Asgard, in Idun's orchards it was always warm and a ceiling of white blossom fluttered like pennants overhead. The white, shivering flowers shook hard as I approached, and suddenly, all flung themselves petulantly at my feet, stripping the tree cruelly bare. The roots began to move, squirming and sliding like snakes trying to trip me, push me back, keep me from you. But I could see you, hunched up in your favourite seat among the roots. I could see the stubborn hunch of your shoulders, your knees drawn up to your chest, could see the back of your hand as your fingers grasped at the air like creaking animated bone and you spat the roots around my ankles and the branches to whip me in the face. But nobody would keep me from you when I was determined to reach you – especially not you.

"Loki, stop this!" I growled in irritation. As I wrestled a tree branch headed straight for my face I remembered a time when you had pulled almost this exact same stunt, many years ago now.

Do you recall it brother? Would you admit it if you did? You had gone into a tantrum after I shouted at you on behalf of the Lady Sif. In a fit of jealously at my spending time with her instead of you that day you had turned her hair irreversibly black. It was a simple spell, you later said, but your fury, even as a child had rendered it too strong to change back. Sif was just a tiny thing, so much so to still cry at this and when I both comforted her and rounded on you, you had flown into a rage a hundred times greater than you were already in. You had yelled and screamed that I did not love you, did not even care about you- that I liked  _everyone_ better than I liked you and that fine, you did not want to play with me anyway. But I saw your chin quiver, brother, and the shine in your eyes and when you stormed out I forgot all about comforting Sif and followed you.

You had come straight here and though you had not the skill then to lash out at me as violently as now your anger still shook the blossom from the trees, carpeting the courtyard in white like fallen snow. I too ended up covered in petals as I entered the cave of roots into which you had slipped yourself. You looked at me and, changeable as ever, chuckled at me -

"Heh" you giggled – "Petals." I groaned and started brushing them off myself and onto you. Brushing them back at me, we broke into a tussle and suddenly – I had  _barely_ pushed you – quick as that, you had started to cry. I had melted instantly; my childish heart knowing nothing more than that it broke me to see you cry. Noisy and gulping, you shook all over with it and tried to hug yourself back into stillness from the sobs that heaved in you.

"Loki –" I said – "Brother, please don't cry –" It  _hurt_ me physically inside until I wanted to cry too. I just wanted to make it better. I would always just want to make it better. You peevishly shied away from my attempt to hold you until I permitted it no more and yanked you to me, allowing for no objection, though you were no sooner in my arms than clinging to me, your face pressed into my shoulder.

"You hate me!" you wailed, gasping out your words.

"Loki, don't be stupid! Of course I don't hate you, why would I –"

"You like Sif more than me! You were  _mean_ to me – you were nice to her! You – you –" your lip quivered with your battle with tears.

"She was sad!" I protested, bewildered by your reasoning. "I was nice because she was sad – and you were the one that upset her!"

"But before that," you would not be stopped – not ever, if convinced you had been done wrong – "You were playing with her hair – I  _heard_ you – you said it was pretty – so I –" you swallowed then, a sly note creeping into your voice – "So I changed it."

I had let go of you a little just to frown, not understanding you at all – and in that space you threw yourself against me, clutching at me and balling the back of my shirt in your fists as though you would never let go.

"Don't let me go Thor –" you sobbed into my chest until my shirt was wet. "Never let me go". I was shaken scared to hear the desperation in your voice; a passion I had thought we were too young to feel – you seemed too  _small_ to be able to hold that much feeling – and all I could do was hold you back tight, stroking you until I felt your wild heartbeat calm. When you finally pulled away you looked up at me very solemnly and informed me that you needed to blow you nose. I am sure I sighed at you, telling you I was not going to do it for you, before you blew your nose – on my sleeve.

"Urgh!" I howled – "You're disgusting!" Though it was good to see your smile, that crooked sun through thunder clouds, and to hear you make that little  _heh heh_ of a laugh. I punched you affectionately in the arm and saw you quite visibly draw your trembling self back together.

"You should tell Sif I'm sorry," you sighed.

" _You_ tell her". You groaned but agreed and later you did so and though she stated acceptance I suspect she never did quite forgive you. Either way that was highly unimportant at that time.

"Thor?" you frowned, all crumpled face and big eyes.

"Yes?"

"Do you love me?"

" _Loki –"_ I groaned; we were children, it was deeply against the grain to admit such things. But you pressed –

" _Do_ you?"

I gathered you into my arms again as if by holding you close and warm enough I could make you know without having to say it. But you had to hear words didn't you? Always.

"You're my brother."

"That's not an answer."

I groaned.

"You're my brother and I love you – first and forever –" I felt you smile and sniff contentedly – "Now get off me before you snot all over again."

You giggled, clearly proud of having done so the first time, and you made me play with your hair, there in the roots of the tree, to make up for my playing with Sif. I told you you were impossible and you readily agreed.

And now –

I fought the roots and branches until I was too close for you to continue your attack without hurting yourself as well. Even then you did not stop immediately. You whipped yourself in the neck with a root aimed straight at my groin. I shielded myself just in time, growling at you to stop, my instinct leading me to drop over you, shielding you now, rather than myself, from your own violence.

"Stop it!" I repeated – "You'll hurt yourself!" It pained me that I could tell this was of little concern to you. You looked at me like I had gone mad, your eyes washed and sparkling the dazzling green they always went when you had been crying; but you did stop.

"Hurt myself? I'll hurt  _you."_ You frowned incredulously – "Surely that should be more your concern?"

" _You_ are my concern Loki, never mind me, I will not see you hurt yourself, my brother." In your sudden, slightly shocked stillness I took your hands, holding them both within mine gently but firmly enough to stop any further lashing out. You looked down at our hands and I saw your lip quiver. I had already pulled you to me when you started to cry, shaking into my shoulder. I let go of your hands and you clutched at me as though you were a child still.

I sighed and stroked your hair back, calming you as I had done time out of mind. Eventually you sniffed –

"Well. This is terribly familiar."

"Well I am  _not_ letting you blow your nose on me this time." That at least got a smirk out of you. "Loki, must we never cease to have this argument?" I watched your forehead knit and you looked up at me – and must have seen how cut and lashed by branches I was for your face fell as soon as it had brightened.

"I did not mean –" you began, but could not quite bring yourself to fully apologise. I knew you would not. Indeed, annoyed at you perceived weakness in going as far as you had you glared at me quickly. "You like them all better than me," you heaved out, petulantly.

"Loki –" I said patiently – "Just because I spend time with my friends does  _not_ mean –"

"Father wants you to marry her," you interrupted, as cuttingly as you could.

"The Lady Sif? What makes you –"

"I  _saw_ the way he looked at you both! I see it all the time! And one day you  _will_ marry her and I –"

"Now wait one minute!" I interrupted you this time "I have no intention of marrying Sif or anyone so I will beg you not to presume my plans!"

"Anyone?" You looked at me, distrustfully.

"I would marry  _you_ if I could, brother –"

"Well you can't –" you snapped, angry I think at the fact rather than me – " _Brother."_ I nodded agreement –

"Given which I intend not to marry at all until I – until  _we_ are king and can change that rule." You shook your head;

"I really cannot see that going down well in Asgard."

I shrugged, in the light of problems that were too big of us I lighted back down on the ones we  _could_ solve;

"Rest assured, I do  _not_ like my friends more than you, as you so childishly put it –" you opened your mouth to be affronted by this. I went on before you could, my voice softening as I stroked the tangled hair back from your face; it was very long in those days and tended towards untidiness, I could become distracted for loving the spider web feel of it in my fingers.

"Loki,  _I love you"_ I insisted – "How many times must I tell you before you know it?" You looked downwards as though desperately seeking a challenge; the one you found was weak -

"You're my brother -" I remembered giving you the same argument so long ago and it did not work on you then. I lost patience with you –

"You know damn well that is not the sum of it – if it was do you think we would be having this right now? You – you –" I broke off with an inarticulate growl of frustration, my voice, my hands shook as I struggled for language enough to express all that you were to me. Such language did not exist. Instead I gently stroked a path down your jawline, frowning as my fingers gently traced the angry whiplash mark across your neck. You flinched at first, struggling to accept my caress, my love, angry – I think – more at yourself now than at me.

"No –" you squirmed, though the conflict in your voice turned it more into a question – "You don't – you just want –"

"I just want my little brother not to hurt himself," I growled, dipping my head to kiss your injuries better if I could, a move you allowed after only the feeblest of struggles.

"I want you to know how I love you and I want you to be happy brother; that is all."

You half shook your head, but I could hear what was positively a purr in your throat and you let your head fall back, permitting me – nay  _forcing_ me to kiss you over and over.

"You really are –" you groaned, but gasping tiny breathy sighs as you spoke – "The simplest, most idiotic –"

"Shut up Loki," I rumbled into your neck. I felt you shudder and swallow, heard you choke on a sob as you let go of that anger, transforming it as if by your magic into something else. You whispered something so quietly I could not hear and I looked up to see your eyes closed and your shoulders painfully stiff with terror as you pretended that you were not saying what you were saying. You whispered it again, your voice breaking with need and desperation –

"Love me –" you whispered; a plea, not an order – "Please love me."

My chest tightened to hear you, tightened that you could doubt that I already did;

"Always," I frowned, the promise easier I think for me to make than for you to hear. But you looked at me, eyes smiling and I felt you relax – as though you had actually feared I would not. Somehow this time you had taken it in; I never knew when you would and when you would stubbornly refuse to hear it. Your lips twitched in the shadow of a smile and in a whisper just as quiet but infinitely more assured you added –

"Kiss me." In fact this time you were insistent, but it was an order I could never have refused.

And I did. I kissed you until our lips were bruised and my limbs entangled with yours until we were twisted around each other like the roots twisted around us. Down amongst those secret caves we twined together beneath the canopy of branches, in the snowstorm of fallen white petals.

_x_

**Chapter 2 coming soon, in which we get Loki's perspective and a more graphic follow up to this scene!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Here be porn, and beauty. :-)**

**2.**

**Loki**

"Kiss me" I said and you did, and the love you offered there amongst the roots was primal and honest as the earth beneath us. Your touch stroked my soul, to soothe away at least some of the cracks in there, and your kisses poured truth into my mouth. Back then I did not even choke on it. I could have offered that evening up in defiance to anyone who dared say this was unnatural.

There was nothing in my  _unnatural,_ fractured existence that felt more right than this. And perhaps that says it all; but I do not care what it says. Your love poured into the hole that had always skulked in my heart, filling it as nothing else did or could and – this time – I let it. I was hungry for that love, I will not admit it again, I starved for it and I suppose I wanted far more than my fair share. I did not think anyone had a real need for love that could match the strength of mine and I was greedy for all you could give me. I would have been happy to drain you completely, knowing how much I was giving to you in return, though I would hardly have told you this in words. You  _did_ know – didn't you? I told you in my crooked kiss, in the arch and offer of my body, in the animal scratch of my nails down your back.

And when you came, growling inside of me I was with you, my hands clutching at the roots above my head for support, tensed so tight as to leave the imprint of the bark in my palms. I came screaming a silent howled prayer to the sky through the branches; that clear blue boiling with gathering storm clouds that seemed to focus over us alone. That same stormy blue I saw was not so much reflected in your eyes as the sky itself was the reflection, and when you fell onto me, shuddering, the skies too opened up, thunder rolling above us and the rain trickling down through the branches. I made the roots twist together above us and frowned at you, not sure whether to be impressed or annoyed.

"You made it rain!" I stated accusingly.

"I didn't mean to!" I smile-sighed and twisted and tugged at the roots with all the mental powers I could muster to shape them until our hollow was wide and domed around us, the roots interlacing over our heads tight enough to keep most of the rain off but open enough to still see fractures of the sky through those knotted layers of old wood. I put lights like candles into the wood around us, the better to see the lightning crash in your eyes as we heard it crash in the sky.

You cradled me in your arms as the tree cradled us both in hers, so wound together we were as to be a part of the tree itself. But even when I was content my fretful heart could not be still, could not allow me to rest in the peace you seemed to find so easy –

"What are we going to do, Thor?" I don't know why I asked, we had started this conversation so many times without ending it, I could see no good way it could end and would not even hear most of you naïve and hopeful suggestions. I hated myself for speaking; we were so perfect down there in the hollow of our tree, a part of me could not bear to be perfect, to be content – "Heimdall knows – but of course he does – mother knows too – as soon as Father finds out we're completely and utterly –"

"Loki, be silent," you sighed wearily, placidly, not even rising to the bait as you often did – "We have been through this enough to know better surely? Why spoil the present thinking of the future?" I sighed deeply; your logic was too strong, too simple –

"But –" I did not even know what I was going to say.

"Shall I tell you?" You murmured soothingly in my ear, the warmth of your breath running right down my spine and twisting like a vine around my hips. I groaned, pleasantly, in spite of myself.

"Listen –" you said, and I could not tell if you were playing with me or not, I am not if you knew yourself – "I'll tell you what we're going to do – we're going to stay inside this tree for ever and ever, just you and me, safe and alone where nobody can ever touch us, how's that?"

I rolled my eyes, even though you somehow  _had_ soothed my upstart heart with your ridiculous solution. I never ceased to wonder how you did that.

"It sounds –" I wriggled, it was hard to object with your fingers running up and down my arm, playing me like some kind of lyre – "Highly implausible, foolish, nonsensical –" you were making me gasp between each word which did not lend a great deal of credence to my words, damn you – "And entirely like you," I finished lamely. I felt you smile against my shoulder as your cock stirred once more against my back – "Gods what is  _with_ you today?"

"It's the thunder," you admitted, rather sheepishly, I felt. "It makes me –" you struggled for the right word that would not make you sound too idiotic; it was no help I was already groaning with chuckling –

"Thor you  _made_ the thunder in the first place! You get turned on by your own thunder? Oh brother you are  _priceless."_

"Shut up, Loki," you growled softly, the thunder overhead echoing you in an answering rumble as you gently brushed my hair aside to kiss the back of my neck. I squirmed and tried to pull together a last weak objection –

"Oh no you –  _gah! –_ don't! I am not your whore to be used because your own power gets you going –" you forced a whimper out of me, nipping at my neck warningly –

"No –"you agreed; I let you put me onto my back on the earth; for all my objections, putty in your hands – "You are my brother and my everything and I will use you as I see fit." I did not want for that to work for me but  _damn_ it certainly did; I could not help but lean up towards you in a silent plea for your touch. It was both delightful and awful that, the first edge taken off your desire, you had the patience now to explore and learn every inch of my skin with your hands and you smiled worryingly at my groan beneath you.

"Oh – you like that, brother?" You grinned, pleased to be able to rile me further – "You want me to use you, to do what I will with you? You want me to empty my last drop of lust into you whenever I so desire? Dear gods, Loki –" you groaned yourself, fingers trembling on my skin, grinding your cock against my body, that glaze of mindless pleasure clouding your eyes to a storm – "Loki, I could touch you forever and never have had enough of you – I can  _never_ get enough of you, my beautiful Loki –" I could not even put up an argument beneath the weight of your conviction, your need. I could only fulfil it and match it with mine. I lost track of the number of times you called me beautiful and I could only think of a handful of occasions I had said the same to you. I was constantly torn between feeling guilt at this and regretting having returned your sentiment so often.

"Need you –" you breathed, when words began to fail, the skies speaking for you in a crack of lightning that reverberated the earth, shuddering through us and driving you back inside me more savagely and suddenly than intended; but I was more than ready for you, needing you as you needed me, though I left it for you to express it. You filled me and hurt me and it felt incredible even as a part of me feared you would break me. I would not have cared then if you had, you broke me apart as it was, yes, and remade me as you did so, better than I was before.

"Gods –" you groaned, and I could hear the whimper, the very  _ache_ in your voice – "I need you so much –" It was the last you managed before crashing into me like the storm, slamming into me over and over again, and holding my head in one hand to kiss me as you did so. It felt like forever ago that we were arguing, that I had come here to be alone – if that was what I had ever really wanted. I was not alone, but more myself with you here than I could ever have been if you were not. It is  _terrifying_ to need someone so much, is it not? Is it any doubt I came to question your need for me when you did not seem to fear it as I felt you should?

I did not question it now. I did not question  _anything._ I could not have. All I knew was your body against mine, inside mine, your touch and your promises making me as beautiful as you said I was. My hands tangled in your hair just to see if there was any closer to me that you could be and you drove into me furiously in reply, giving me everything I needed without forcing me to ask for it. So close to the earth, held in its roots, I felt the whole world seem to reverberate as you shuddered inside me on the edge of orgasm. I stilled like a pause in the storm, gathering breath for the downpour and you were there – pouring into me heatedly and flooding me with your seed. I felt the ground shake with the ripple and crash of lightning as you came and it drew release from me without my even needing to  _touch_ my cock. The surprise – I had not even known that was  _possible-_ caused me to come for even longer, I fear I even uttered an aching " _Oh,"_ of surprise aloud and I shook with it and was crying as the shaking subsided and you were there, beside me now and holding me as I shook and screamed and cried. I felt like I was floating on air, but I was safe from the thunder because you were holding me, and your arms and your murmuring litany of reassurance kept me aloft.

"Shh, Loki, it's okay –" you whispered, and unnecessary as they were your sweet whispers sang a song to my soul, shimmering and golden inside me "It's alright little brother, I've got you, I've got you, you're safe, dear one, I love you Loki, I love you, I'll take care of you, I'll always take care of you –" until I looked up through misted eyes to see you gazing down at me, your eyes clear and blue and smiling, and through the roots and branches above us I could see the sky reflecting that beautiful clarity and the calm I could feel inside you. I blinked, smiling blissfully –

"Hello," I murmured happily, for it felt like I had travelled far. Some orgasms are like that, you know, small self-contained adventures to the ends of the realms and back.

"Are you alright brother?" you frowned, concerned somehow – "You were – crying." I waved it away –

"Good crying. Really - really good crying. I'll cry every day if it's like that –" I frowned at your face, suddenly seeing all the whip marks I had made there in my anger of a thousand years ago as it seemed. "I hurt you," I scowled, feeling terrible, almost wanting to cry in a  _not_ good way. You shrugged –

"A thousand years ago," you said, quite as though you had read my mind. You snuggled me close for a sweet eternity down there in the glowing dark with the soil beneath my fingernails and the smell of mossy wood and earth around us. I opened up the roots above us more to let the light back in showering golden stripes across your arm as you held it firmly around me. It was a cage I never wanted to free myself of; I shuddered at the thought of freedom and that lure would never again hold much sway for me. Eventually you spoke;

"I am hungry," you stated, more contemplatively than the statement deserved.

"Of course you are," I sighed.

"We should perhaps –"

"Ohhh –" I pouted to tease you this time – "But I thought you said we could stay forever."

"If there was food down here we could," you countered.

"You are fickle, brother," I sighed.

"In my need for food perhaps –" you nodded, then stroked my face and looked at me with all the warmth of the sun after the storm in your eyes – "Never in my affections Loki." I smiled;

"Come on then –" I sighed. I forget how our clothes had even come off but I conjured us back into them and began to part the roots into a doorway back into the world of other people – "Let's feed you."

I could have sworn I heard your great stomach rumble its agreement, but you kissed me as we left, as we promised the tree we would return.

And we did. Again and again in the years that followed we returned to the tree, to our secret place amongst the roots. I even twisted roots into a chest to hold food, the better to keep you there for longer, with your attention and your eyes only for me. Hour after hour we could spend there, exploring one another, re-treading familiar paths and marking out new ones in each other's skin, offering screaming worship to the roots while the skies overhead told the story of the storms that came and went in your eyes. If there was ever a time, a place that I held sacred – and I am not saying that there was – well, brother, it was then and it was there.

_x_

**This just came out of me in a great rush - but i think it's my favourite chapter in he series so far....maybe :-)**


	3. Chapter 3

**So, I was so happy with the last chapter that I knew I couldn't better or even match it in this one. And I haven't. But heh, it's a thing, with some porn in. Hopefully a good thing.**

**3.**

**Loki**

The last snows of winter piled up outside the windows, half obscuring them, and I sat sullenly in the window seat in your quarters, glaring out at the reflected colours in the shimmering white and hating them. I think perhaps I saw something of myself in that all-concealing snow, where nothing looked like it was and everything appeared as it was not. So shining perfect to the eye but so easily muddied and hiding such danger and foulness. Yes, I could have been made of the stuff, and today I felt horribly enfolded in its icy, stifling embrace.

I traced idle runes against the windowpane, simple magic to clear the view until I was at least looking out on the startlingly bright blue of the sky, same blue as your eyes when untroubled and easy.

"What is it?" you said and I started inwardly, having forgotten for a moment that you were there. Not realising that as I stared moodily out the window, you had been watching me over the weapons you had been shining up in front of the fire. I turned,  _not_ starting, silent and deceitful as the snow, my own fractious mood pulling my lips into a sneer of a smile –

"What is  _what?"_

"I just saw you smile."

What  _had_ I been thinking that caused such a thing? Ah yes – the blue of the sky like the blue of your eyes, open and honest to shame the sulking snow. How that sky (those eyes) pleased my tired heart; warming me from the frozen inside, singing me to life with that pure clear light, golden fingers to warm the icy soul.

Well of course I was in too rotten a mood to say any of that. It was not your fault today; indeed it was purely my own malingering, critical self-involvement that was making me cross. But the fact that my mood was self-inflicted did not improve it in the slightest, and the knowledge of my own fault just made it dramatically worse. Not being able to lash inwards any more than already came naturally I lashed out, as always. You so often got the worst of my internal hatred reversed, you must have felt sometimes it was truly aimed at you; I wonder you could still have been always there for me.

I wonder it still. This riddle that I did not pose and could never answer.

"Do not flatter yourself that you were the cause," I grouched in reply, slumping deeper into the window seat.

"Loki –" you frowned, chiding me like a boy and crossing the room to kneel beside my seat – "What is wrong with you today? What puts my little brother in so pensive a mood?"

Honestly, you were like a big dumb dog, all soft and golden, looking up at me with those big trusting eyes that just begged me to be alright, to be happy, to walk in the sun as you did, not always skulk in the shadow. You made me think it possible, you know – even for me, and I alternately loved you and despised you for it. But truly it was hard to be as angry with you as I felt like I wanted to be.

(I did not really want to be, brother, I never  _enjoyed_ hurting either of us, not truly.)

"Oh dear gods," I sighed – "It uses long words. I wonder does it even know what they mean?" You frowned –

"Mood?"

"Pensive, you moron."

"Pensive is  _not_ a long word."

I exhaled deeply and shook my head at you. At least like the snow I could be so easily melted.

"For all the gods' sake brother get up off the floor, you're like some big dumb animal at my feet."

"Well –" you smiled at me, glowingly – "I would bark like one as well if it would amuse you and clear you of this wretched countenance."

"Even longer –" I whistled, mock impressed – "Do take care or that canine brain of yours may overheat from effort."

" _Brother –"_ you took my hand in yours, clasping it so I could put up no further argument. Your skin was warm from the fire and mine so much colder next to yours, you rubbed my hand between yours gently as you looked up at me, not even thinking, just subconsciously, instinctively trying to warm me. I rolled my eyes at your hopeful countenance but even I did not have it in me not to spit your hope back in your face at that time. You never would just leave me to brood would you? So determined that I should be happier, that you gave me little choice but to be so. I sighed and half way smiled, with the effort of feeling myself really let go a little with it.

"You really won't just leave me to brood will you?"

"Well no."

"It's like you cannot just be happy - if I am not." I did not say it to bait you, it struck me as a genuine strangeness.

"Well –" you said again, your forehead crumpling in that perplexed frown you had as though this should have been painfully obvious – "No. Besides, what cause have you to brood? Has aught occurred to make you sad today, brother?"

" _No –_ " I admitted, grudgingly – "It's not – it's just –" I squirmed, suddenly feeling how ridiculous I had been,  _was_ being – as though I were nonsensical as a child. I kicked the windowpane petulantly – "but how could  _you_ understand?" I groaned, I was not making it better or myself appear any more adult – " _You_ never have cause to hate yourself, to fear your own nature as I –" I squeezed my eyes closed for they seemed to sting a little and turned away from your hopeless, honest gaze.

"Loki –" you sighed, taking my other hand and forcing me to look at you – "Loki no, I do  _not_ understand, my Loki, I see  _nothing_ here to hate, nor would  _I_ ever fear you –"

"You're an idiot," I retorted, for your flow of sweet words threatened to fix me too deeply not to be painful and I was more afraid of that than I would ever let you know – "And you do not know me at all to say such things."

"Brother, I know you better than you think and sometimes –" I tried to glare at you but I fear it looked weak, for I knew you were right – "Better than you do. No do not argue with me for once –" for I was ready to do so – "I  _know_ you – and you are  _perfect_ to me, I fear more perfect than you will ever know. I love you, little brother, and I wish only to see you happy –"

"Thor –"

"No you don't, I know that voice. You will let me make you happy Loki, won't you?"

You were so intent and your need seemed to honest and so great I could not help but acquiesce, besides your thumb was stroking me not so idly and creeping up my leg and I cannot say I was not moved to allow you to persist in your  _I am sure_ well-meant intentions. You let go of my hands gently to slide both of yours up my thighs and I sighed, shuddering, letting it go and twisting my fingers softly into your hair, stroking behind your ears and twisting strands of your hair around my fingers as you smiled up at me rather less innocently.

"I will make you  _so_ happy, little brother –" you growled softly, a grin creeping into the side of your smile. I groaned a little at that and as you gently began to palm my cock through the leather my head fell back to rest against the cool window, the wall cool against my back as the heat built up in the pit of my stomach. Squinting down I saw you smile, far too pleased with yourself, though I was of course going to let that go for now. After all you were on your knees at my feet and I cannot say I could ever find that objectionable.

"My brother –" you murmured, voice vibrating against my leg as your fingers worked at unfastening my lacings with remarkable deftness – "You will feel  _so_ good by the time I am through with you."

The fact that you made it sound like a threat only made my cock harder as you took it in your hands and then slowly, teasingly, in your mouth. I was not sure when you had become so skilled at this, though I am sure it must have I who had taught you, and my hands tightened in your hair as you tormented me gently for a while, licking and teasing at the head of my cock as you squeezed lightly at the base. You smirked against my sensitive skin when I moaned a strangled sound that may or may not have been  _brother,_ hating you for being able to do this to me, but loving you for doing it. You responded by licking mercilessly down my entire length, making me jerk, pushing my cock further into your mouth, hissing a smirk out of me to hear you choke a little and pull your head back, just long enough to annoy before dipping down again and taking me completely into your mouth. Your fingers kneaded at the muscles that stood tense in my leg and my hands clasped around the back of your head, forcing you in place, though my traitorous fingers may have stroked the back of your neck as I did so with treacherous tenderness. You were delightful like this, and your soft groan of pleasure around me was the final touch to make me come, shuddering with relief, into your mouth, spilling with it at least a good part of the ill feeling that had been plaguing me.

I smiled down at you, benignly now, the prickling in my head replaced with a pleasant soft humming. Indeed I felt so entirely boneless that I allowed you to catch me as I slipped down from the window seat and into your arms, where I curled into your lap, like a child. Indeed you were large enough and strong enough that I could fit in there perfectly. I admit it was lovely to just nuzzle warmly into your shoulder and feel myself as protected as I could ever want to be, even from myself.

"I told you I would make you feel better," you said, a tad smugly I must say. I growled at you half-heartedly in response.

"But you  _do_ – don't you brother?" you persisted, so concerned, always so concerned – "I do not like to see you sad, my Loki, what is it comes into that head of yours?" I shook that troublesome head –

"I wish I knew. You make it go away though brother, only you ever make it go away." Later I would no doubt tell you that I never uttered such needy comments at times like this, but neither of us would ever believe me.

"Loki –" you smiled, holding me close but so gently, I always marvelled how you managed it – "I will always fight for you, against anything that upsets you my brother- even if it's you I have to fight."

"Would you kill the bastard if you had to?" I whispered, half smiling – "The one that hides in my heart?"

"If I could leave the rest of you intact."

"Oh  _Thor –"_ I sighed – "I am  _never_ intact. I don't think I ever was. Only – only you could make me so and –"

"Then I shall," you said firmly "I'm not going anywhere."

I wondered if that was a promise you could really keep, but frighteningly trusted you enough to hope that if you could not it would be through no choice of your own.

"It's the snow," I said, angrily for fear you would find me stupid – "It's the damned snow – the ice gets into me like – like it just won't let me be and it make me – wrong. I don't want to be wrong brother –" I swear I was on the verge of saying something I would later regret, asking for something I would never ask for. But you would not let me –

"Loki, Loki you're  _perfect,"_ you insisted – "And the snow is not so bad you know – it can be – fun."

"Fun?" I wrinkled my nose in distaste, and you – damn you – poked it like when I was tiny – "When is snow ever fun?"

"Well –" you grinned and started to rise, pulling me with you – "Come outside and I will show you."

"Show me? What? Are we going to throw snowballs and build snowmen? Because –" I was getting ready to object so heartily it would talk you out of it but your optimism was nauseatingly infectious and your conviction that I  _would_ come with you so strong I feared I would have to do battle to make it otherwise. You grinned an absolute affirmative and swished a cloak around you, grabbing me by the hand and running me down the corridor to plunge outside into the snow.

_x_

**Do you wanna build a snowman? I suspect the next chapter may involve silliness. Also snow. Possibly sex. But not with snowmen, that'd be weird. :-)**


	4. Chapter 4

 

**Thor**

“ _Th-or,_ ” you wailed, that petulant whine that I found in turns both endearing and annoying – “Thor please, how old do you think we are?”

You made it sound as though I were dragging you as we headed outside into the snow – and not following me perfectly by choice, albeit dragging your feet in the least convincing display of unwillingness I had ever seen.

“As always,” I replied, remorselessly. “Old enough to know better but young enough to do it anyway”. I must have smiled faintly at the quickness of my own reply, for you rolled your eyes at me with what I could only take as an affectionate, long suffering air.

“I can only suppose that passes for both quick and witty where you come from,” you drawled.

“Well then you are as slow as I since we come from the same place, idiot.”

You smirked a little;

“I must be adopted.”

I pushed you and you yelled, not because of the push, which was nothing – but because we had just stepped out into the cold of the garden leading off from my quarters. It was a private garden, normally a rich green jungle hidden within golden walls, though so large that you could stand in the centre and see nothing but green on all sides. Though at the moment the jungle was gone and in its place was a shimmering sculpture in a thousand shades of dazzling white – that white that is never _really_ white but a palatial prism of tiny fractal shards, glittering rainbows.

“It’s cold,” you moaned.

“It will be a lot colder with a face full of snow,” I retorted, again rather quickly I thought.

“What?” you turned, just as I was hoping you would, and took a perfect face full of snow. You blinked, standing still for a moment like an indignant cat caught in an unexpected rainstorm.

“Why, you absolute –” you started, but grinned before you were finished, bending down and whirling round, graceful as in one of your battle moves and catching me full in the face with a fist full of snow right back.

That was our cue, I suppose, to start hurling snowballs at each other in a wonderful flurry of icy activity. My heart sang and spirit soared, for I had been determined to show you that snow could be fun at the very least – and I had been prepared for it to take much longer than it had. Snow in our eyes and hair, trickling down our necks and the fingers red but uncaring – you were right – it was as though we were still children with never a complex conversation between us in our lives. We yelled at each other inanely and pretended to be disgusted with every fresh thump of snow against flesh but I could see the rare flush in your cheeks and your eyes glittering with an excitement I had missed seeing there all this day.

Then suddenly you stopped still, just after I had successfully thrown a good one down your neck, you looked at me intently, mischief blazing in your eyes. I could see your breath on the air, your chest rising and falling with our playful exertion – and that very breath was beautiful to me. You grinned slowly and widely, and with that ran off into the trees. I followed as though you were a deer and I the hunter, but you were always quicker than me. Still I followed your footprints in the snow, and in the sunlight they sparkled where your feet had fallen. I came through the small group of trees to find you on the other side, beneath the sky once more. The snow had stopped falling now and the sun dazzled all around, lighting golden on the snow, emerald where it caught in your clothes and silver in your hair. You were breath-taking.

You were guiding your hand as though you held a wand, sending a shimmering stream of snowflakes spiralling up from the ground and into the air just above and in front of your head, forming an enormous snowball that hung there, steadily growing in the air. You were watching your work intently and with a gleam in your eye, and I watched you watching and followed the spiralling ribbon of magical snow so intently that it took me longer than it should have to divine your actual purpose. Indeed you had already started to move the mountainous snowball through the air towards me before I had caught on. I did not have turn to even curse my slowness before it caught me, not only in the face, but burying me to the chest in a heap of soft snow, which in such quantities I feel I should tell you, is not that soft at all _, brother_.

I yelled as you giggled, the light sparkling sound like bubbles in a glass that I had come to hear from you less and less the older you become. But it was a laugh that warmed the heart like the sparkling wine it so resembled. And my heart needed warming for this torrent of snow.

“LOKI!” I roared, though I confess I was half laughing myself – “I am not a snowman!!” You laughed even harder, creasing up in merriment, holding yourself in so tight I could have sworn you were seconds from lying on your back and kicking your legs in the air as you had when you had pulled such pranks on me as a child. I glared at you, in a complete mock – rage that even I could not pull off well, and growled at you unconvincingly.

“Oh but _brother –”_ you mocked – “The snow is so much _fun!”_ You went into another crease of laughter, amused by your very own self as well as the ridiculous picture I have no doubt I made.

“I hate you Loki.” You ignored me completely, as the comment deserved.

“Really, I wish you could see yourself. The mighty Thor! Oh dear, you look utterly ridiculous!” you chuckled.

I heaved myself out of the snow, with a giant surge, shaking snow off myself in all directions and getting no small satisfaction in showering you as I did so.

“Right!” I roared, unable to think of anything more imaginative than to chase you. You were so caught up in your own amusement you let me catch you easily, grappling you onto the snow and pinning you there with a mighty “Ha!”

But then – predictably I suppose, at finding myself in such a position I found myself mesmerised by your laughing eyes and intoxicated by the warmth of your body in all the cold air. I found myself smiling down at you, feeling nought but warmth for all the snow and gently brushing your flushed cheek with my fingers.

“Feh!” you spat – “Your fingers are _cold!”_

“Well, so is your face,” I retorted.

“Well, don’t even think about kissing me, for I swear our faces will fuse together and much as I love you –”

“Oh you _do,_ do you?” I grinned, for you said it so rarely, you would not have now, I think, had you been thinking about it and you turned your face away, your lips forming a silent _damn._

“Shut up Thor,” you grumbled – “Let’s – oh I don’t know – build a stupid snowman.” I grinned at you harder, knowing you would not be so rude about the idea if you were not actually taken by it. I could not resist –

“Aww, does Loki wanna build a snowman?” I mocked – “Does little Loki –”

You threw a snowball at me hard and it got me right in the groin, I winced and _obviously_ that made you chuckle again.

“ _No”_ you said, too pointedly – “But you clearly do.”

“Well alright – but by hand – no magic.”

“Tell you what – you use the hands, I’ll be the magic, deal?”

“Fine.”

You perched yourself in the branch of a tree to watch as I rolled snow around the garden, like a little green bird singing out to me with rarely helpful advice and suggestions and though I did little but grumble back at you in reply, I still remember that afternoon as one of the happiest of that time. When you had quite finished laughing at my two clumsy structures, little more than large piles of snow with stones for eyes and twigs for hands, you hopped off your branch and came down to inspect them.

“That one looks like you,” you pronounced, pointing to the largest, then observing that I had given the other a rather crooked pebble – smile frowned and said – “Brother – did you make _us?”_

“I tried.”

You sighed heavily, nodding to yourself a silent _right._

“Take a seat,” with a wave of your hand you flew me and landed me on the branch that had been your vantage point for watching me. It was excellent. I rather wanted you to do it again, but you had fallen into strict tutorial mode –

“Watch and learn brother,” you grinned. I did watch, fixedly, for your illusions were perfection, without ever touching it you shaped the snow until the figures of us were not mere representational blobs but perfect duplicates of us in shimmering white. You fixed shimmering cloaks of finely spun snow, one in glittering crimson, the other in emerald green to the snow – people’s shoulders and when you were quite satisfied, made them turn to me and bow. I had to resist the urge to clap, for I had had no idea your abilities reached so far. Indeed, even you looked rather proud. Apparently, however, you were not done.

“Wait,” you grinned up at me – “Watch this.” You crafted a perfect little Mjolnir out of snow – this was still in the days I had yet to receive the real one – and, placing it in my double’s hand had me attack the replica of you with it. The snow-you flung magical sparks of snow at it and dodged – and so you had us, rendered in snow, perform a small battle across the garden until your replica pinned mine down and mine bowed its head in surrender. I snorted –

“Now that is just ridiculous!” I called. Your eyes sparkled back up at me, you were breathing heavily, no less exhausted from your work than I had been from mine –

“I can make it more so,” you replied, and your replica got slowly off of mine, pulled mine to its feet and into a kiss. You looked at the tableau, as though trying to decide on something and then held out your hand in a gesture to stop, frosty air streaming from your hand in a dazzling mist, freezing our replicas to stay that way for their whole brief wintery existence, shimmering statues of fragmented rainbow ice, locked together in one sculpture. I suppose I would have been happy for us to have frozen ourselves the same way. I could not help but wonder if you were having the same thought, you looked at me so – it was hard to imagine it – but _shyly,_ and you smiled as I dropped from the tree to enfold you in my cloak like wings, to kiss you, protect you, keep you safe forever. I was so naïve back then.

When I let go your lips you looked at me and I was almost sure you were on the verge of conceding my point about the joys of snow. Perhaps you were, and certainly there must have been a concession to it when you spoke, though what you actually said was just–

“I _am_ still cold though, shall we go in now?”

I grinned –

“Of course – and I will warm you, little brother.”

You were already beginning to warm _me_ with the smile, both enigmatic and innocent, that begin to creep across your face.

__x__

**I’m sorry this chapter has been so long in coming, my modern AU fic has been taking over my life! In good news I’ve surprised myself by discovering that there’s another chapter of this to go and I have it planned in my head and everything! Hopefully it won’t be as long in coming as this one, after which I’ll be starting “Sepia and Starlight” in the same series! :-)**

 

 

 

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

 

 

Do you remember a night when the sky was like sapphire and snow? When the clouds seemed so close you could touch them, soft billowy boats floating through that sea above our heads? It was those few fleeting moments when it was not yet quite dark and the sky was on the turn, a shade of blue close to the shade of your eyes. Or was the sky always that colour? In Asgard, one could never tell if the sky copied you or your eyes reflected the sky. It was my favourite time of day, not quite one thing, not quite another. It was _my_ time of day and you were reflected in it so beautifully.

I was sat in my window seat when you came in, looking out at that sky. Watching the clouds cross it as they sailed on by my window. It was a dreamy sky, a scene to inspire, though what it was to inspire I was not quite sure. That day however it was you that had the answers.

“Loki come,” you said – “I’ve done something.”

“Oh fates,” I moaned. “What have you done now? And how deeply in trouble is it going to get the both of us?”

“It’s good,” you said – “You’ll like it.”

I am sure I protested that I probably would not, but as it turned out you were right for once. You had appropriated one of the air – boats and it hovered not far off the ground in your private garden.

“I know you,” you said – “How you watch the sky at this time in the evening. Well now you don’t have to watch; we can dive straight into it – into the blue and the clouds.”

“How do you know that is what I –” I began and you had laughed at me as I tried to cover up my confused pleasure that you could so guess what I was wanting – “I mean, that’s ridiculous, we’ll be seen. They won’t let us just fly off with one of these!”

“That’s why I need you – to cloak it with magic so nobody sees – and you need me to steer.”

“Oh _that’s_ why you need me is it? Besides _I_ can also steer, and better than you.”

“Very well then; you may go without me.”

“Get in the boat, Thor.”

You did, grinning insufferably, and do not think  I did not know that this was intended as a romantic liaison on your behalf, though you liked to cover such intentions as much as I liked to cover up all of mine.

Nevertheless, you _did_ know how to steer, and I put an enchantment on both us and the boat so that, while we could see both it and each other nobody else would suspect a thing. I was getting very used, back then, to employing such enchantments. Neither could I honestly say that there was not something magical simply in our sailing up into the sky as though we were going up into those clouds that already seemed so close, becoming part of the blue. Yes, I stood by the prow and put my arms out into the wind, flying into the sky with it as though swimming through the air. I had my eyes closed against the wind and when I opened them again you were looking at me and smiling.

“You always did want to be able to fly.” I came down from the prow and sat near you on the bench that ran around the inside of the boat – “ I remember when you were tiny you would steal little Freya’s falcon cloak and go flying round the room in it until somebody got you down.”

“Yes, well I am sure you were doing nothing more mature than standing there wailing at me to come down off the ceiling.”

“Don’t worry little brother, when I have Mjolnir we’ll go flying any time you want.”

“Yes, I’m sure you’ll be granted so noble a weapon purely to play with as though we were toddlers again.”

“Well when I –”

“Thor please – do not spoil a perfectly beautiful evening with your inane _when I have Mjolnir_ stories.”

“But you –”

“Ooh look at me, I’m the first son of Asgard and my weapon is the mightiest in all the kingdom! Please – I bet you use that line on all the girls.”

“Well, but I already _have_ the mightiest weapon in all the kingdom and well you know that I do not use it on any _girl.”_

“Are you so sure of that?” I became female just briefly enough for you to roll your eyes at me.

“Here,” you sighed, taking a bottle from beside you and filling a horn which you handed to me. I took a sip and smiled as though the sun had come out in the night sky – you had acquired a bottle of some of the finest mead.

“Brother really –” I tried to tease, though I confess it was difficult to stop taking sips of the stuff that tasted like liquidised sunshine – “If you are trying to woo me you are a little late.”

“I simply thought it would be pleasant.”

I took another sip – I noticed you drained your horn in one swallow and refilled, placing it in a bracket – I can only assume made for the purpose – in the side of the boat.

“Really?” I said, after the pause – “And you had no foul intentions towards me at all?”

“Loki –” You shook your head as though amazed I could say such a thing, and then you grinned – “Of course I do.”

You left the ship softly sailing its own course through the sky and came over to sit beside me. I will not deny I had been, in great part waiting for this, for you to take my face in your hand as you did and guide my eyes to yours. It was hard to stay in control just looking into your eyes – I am not sure I succeeded – all the sky was there and the stars all reflected in your smile and I could not believe so deep an expanse could be turned on me with the warmth I seemed to see in you then. The _love,_ I think it was. I tried not to tremble in your hands for fear both that it was real and that it would never last, that I did not even deserve this. I succeeded only in not letting you see that I trembled. When you kissed me it was with that love, with sunshine to warm the lips and the taste of mead on your tongue, thick and sweet, kisses carved in honey. It was so easy to love you then. At any rate it was not possible to do otherwise.

I always wondered how, for all the roughness in your touch, you stroked me so tenderly, sweet caresses to the face and neck that I could hardly bear but that I never wanted you to stop. All those wonderful moments in which you did _not_ stop. There was no hurry that night, not until wanting you closer still began to outweigh wanting that tenderness. Until however hard I cleaved to you and you to me you would not have felt close enough until you were inside me. It was not a time for teasing when the need become so strong, I conjured away both our clothes and sighed in bliss at the feel of your skin sliding hard and warm against mine -  the contrast between that warmth and the cold air at my back delicious.

You lay me gently back against the bench that barely held me and I think I reached for you with grasping hands that did not like you being so far away even to take the little bottle of oil from where you had secreted it about the boat. I smiled at your foresight while you slicked your cock with hands of which I was jealous for I wanted them on _me_ and wanted your cock likewise.

The grateful return of your hands to my body was all the sweeter for the oil still lingering on your fingers, sliding over my skin like snakes, binding me against you in the sweetest pleasure. Hard to believe now I ever allowed myself so be so needy, so desperate, so blatant in my lust and so urgently wanting. But you knew and this time it was not the time to torment me. Instead you whispered to me, a lullaby of gentle intent that made my cock ache and my body arch instinctively towards you –

“Hush –” you said “Hush little brother, I’ll take care of you Loki, I’ll always look after my little brother, hush Loki hush –”

And you slid into me with my name tumbling so lovingly from your lips as to ease any pain and so quickly have me crying out in delight, swallowing my cries with your kisses and I relished in having you as close as I had wanted, wrapping both legs and arms around you to keep you there as you held me in turn in an ecstasy of need. When you let me go it was only to wrap both hands around my cock as you thrust into me slowly, deeply and so deeply that for one of the few times I can remember I felt _perfect_ inside and out. When I came too, feeling your hot seed inside of me and your hands squeezing my cock it was with the clouds and the stars overhead spiralling and singing in my brain.

There is nothing quite like a view of the stars in the shuddering after ache of orgasm. Nothing more beautiful other than the way you held me and the look in your eyes that told me I was at least that beautiful.

Perhaps the moment would have lasted for longer if I had not suddenly seen a wall loom near us, obscuring the stars.

“Thor –” my voice came out weakly from the screaming of a moment before and you smiled back at me, thinking I was about to say something sweet –

“Loki?”

“This ship’s about to crash.”

You looked up, cursed, jumped up and dashed naked to the helm, swerving us violently aside and narrowly escaping our collision with the wall.

Perhaps it would have been even more magical for that moment to have lasted. Perhaps I remember it as all the sweeter for its being cut short. But either way it was worth it to see you panic and dash across that boat naked beneath the stars. When I could quite contain my laughter I looked up to find you glaring at me and when I laughed at you for that as well you finally joined in. Besides we had the whole night after we landed, back in your room, to take our time.

__x__

**I wasn’t entirely sure I was gonna write this again – but look! I did a chapter. I also have half another one written!**


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